


Champagne at The Ritz

by HannibabestheCannibabes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, London, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Angst, The Ritz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibabestheCannibabes/pseuds/HannibabestheCannibabes
Summary: Following 6,000 years of knowing one another, the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and almost certain death, it's perhaps time for an angel and a demon to address how they really feel. Complete with a visit to The Ritz of course. Just pure fluff.





	Champagne at The Ritz

**Champagne at The Ritz**

The waiting staff at The Ritz could never truly explain why their best table was always free when the same two men walked in, the well-dressed blonde man and his taller companion who was always inexplicably wearing sunglasses regardless of season or weather. Nor could they explain why they always had a bottle of the best champagne already perfectly chilled complete with a selection of dishes to accompany said bottle that had never appeared on the restaurant menu (and did not appear afterwards). But the blonde man tipped handsomely (sometimes absurdly, with the tip once being twice the actual cost of the meal), and they caused no bother, so the staff were always more than happy to ignore these, admittedly strange when considered, coincidences.

Crowley was aware of the angel’s eyes on him as he sipped at his champagne, relishing the vintage as he felt it slip cold down his throat. He was not one for having such indulgences spoiled by his companion’s incessant staring (he put it down largely to demon physiology, they had very minimal amounts of shame). Still, he raised an eyebrow of his own at the sight of Aziraphale’s own glass, still full, and untouched cake.

‘Rather unlike you, isn’t it?’ 

‘I’m sorry, what…?’ The angel followed the demon’s gesture to the plate before him and he felt himself flush. ‘Oh, yes, perhaps...I’m rather not hungry.’

‘You’re an angel, are you ever really hungry?’ Crowley shrugged, before reaching for the bottle once more. He stopped with a look on his face that was as sheepish as a demon could manage. ‘You won’t mind if I just...with you not being hungry and all?’

‘Be my guest.’ Aziraphale watched him top up his own glass before sitting back in his chair to the full extent both the chair’s design and Ritz policy would allow. Through the dark lenses, he could just make out his companion’s eyes, closed as he tipped his glass top his lips, and it felt like just as good a time as any for the angel to stutter, ‘actually, Crowley, I do have something I would like to say.’

‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Yes, indeed.’ The angel sat up straighter in his own chair, stiff backed, the polar opposite of the man sat with him. Whilst his mouth was dry, dryer with every passing second, he resisted from reaching for his glass, as if any alcohol in this present moment would be far too much for him. Or perhaps he feared if he started, he would not stop, and as an angel he could very easily just continue drinking and The Ritz was a notoriously well-stocked…

‘Come on, angel. Get on with it.’

He was brought back to himself by the demon’s interruption, and he gave a weak smile. In his hands, he held his napkin, twisting it nervously. ‘Yes, rather. Well, what I would like to say is…’

‘Oh, it’s not something bad is it?’ Crowley asked with a groan. ‘Look at you, nervous, pulling apart that napkin, off your food, this is something bad. Has your side been in touch? You could’ve waited until I was a bit drunker…’

‘No, it’s nothing bad.’ Aziraphale bristled, his forehead set in a deep frown. ‘Could you let me finish?’ At the lack of response from his companion, he nodded slowly and took a deep breath (admittedly one he didn’t need to take, but then he didn’t need cake or champagne either and he still enjoyed those). ‘We have known each other now for 6,000 years. I would like to think that in that time we have become close, even become friends, and although I found the idea rather mortifying at one point, I have been very happy to have you as my friend for many years.’

‘Great. So we’re friends.’

‘Let me continue.’ Another breath. ‘We have however recently faced a number of difficulties together and have survived two deaths of almost certain probability…’

‘Eh, I’d say more than two actually, if you count the Apocalypse, and all the fire, and the being hunted down bit. Ooh, and Satan, don’t forget him…’

‘Alright, we have survived  _ numerous _ deaths of almost certain probability. But the point is that we survived them and we survived them together. And I suppose doing both of those things has made me recently recognise something that I had previously been ignoring but now I realise I’d have regretted not saying should something have happened to us and…’ 

‘Let me guess; you love me.’

‘Well, yes, my dear, I rather do.’ 

Crowley peered over the tops of his glasses to meet the angel’s eyes (so  _ horribly _ sincere) with his own. He swore softly. ‘Well, bugger.’

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything at all. I’m expecting nothing in return. I understand that all of that love stuff is rather out of the question for you demons, and I am very happy just to be your friend, even if I have denied so in the past. I just felt that, as feelings go, this one is rather strong and we have been through an awful lot together and...and having had to avert the Apocalypse and face possible unknown torture and death, I’m just rather glad I got to do it with you.’

‘Fuck.’

He couldn’t ignore what he could have sworn was the suddenly pale face of his companion, complete with all of the very audible swearing. Aziraphale felt himself reach out a hand to place gently over the demon’s. He couldn’t ignore either how he seemed to stiffen under the angel’s touch. ‘I should have not said, I’m sorry, I know how these things can be uncomfortable for demons. I forget that. I honestly do not expect a thing to change, or want a thing to change, I just had to say which is of course dreadfully selfish of me and shows complete disregard for…’

‘I love you.’

‘Complete disregard for all of your feelings and the long history of our friendship and recent events and…’ Aziraphale stopped suddenly, the exact words that had just been murmured beside him seeming to only just register, and he felt himself silenced. ‘I’m sorry, my dear?’

‘I said I love you, angel.’ Crowley seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he spoke, the very nature of the words not quite natural to his being. At the angel’s continued silence, he frowned. ‘I’m not saying it a third time.’

‘But the swearing and the squirming as I…? You looked terrified, Crowley.’

‘Well, I bloody am terrified, alright? I was rather happy to just go another 6,000 years without mentioning a thing and take it from there really. Hope another Apocalypse came along before I had to say anything about it.’

‘I thought demons couldn’t…’

‘You and me both.’ He shrugged in the least comfortable manner possible, flashing a smile that only seemed to scream both ‘extreme embarrassment’ and ‘anxiously sensitive. In other words, everything Crowley felt he was not. He was even sat properly on his chair, unable to even pretend to be enjoying a second of the confusion now in the air. ‘Come on, angel, what are you going to say?’

‘You know you don’t have to say these things if you don’t really...if you don’t feel them.’ Not quite the words the demon had expected. ‘I know demons don’t really feel love, I don’t need you to pretend you do for me. I don’t need anything in return, I assure you. I am more than happy with just your friendship…’

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘I just...I’ve never sensed anything and you would never have said and I understand if I’ve now put you under pressure to...Oh.’

He’d have continued to talk for hours if allowed, the way Aziraphale often did when discussing any of his most favourite subjects (books, tea, the disgraceful fashions of the modern day in comparison to the artful dress of the 1800s), but he was interrupted most delicately with the demon’s lips against his, pulling him close into a long kiss. Crowley’s lips were not as expected, softer than he’d imagined, tasting the way he imagined a crisp Autumn would taste and a single whiskey in front of a crackling fire. Aziraphale leaned closer, his mouth slipping open and he felt the man’s tongue, quick as a serpent’s, against his own and he moaned most decadently, it vibrating into the kiss.

Crowley pulled away first, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes over his glasses with a smirk. ‘Convinced you yet, angel?’

‘Quite so.’ He was visibly, obviously flustered, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face a delicious shade of pink. It took all of the demon’s self-control to not reach in again, to dishevel his companion further. But there was time. ‘You don’t think anyone saw, do you? Would they mind? Should we go?’

‘Stay there. We still have cake and champagne to finish.’ He lounged back in the chair, raising his glass with a smile. ‘Besides, we have another 6,000 years to keep doing that. They’ll have to get used to it at some point.’


End file.
